A Profitable Mistake
by UAs-Fics
Summary: "I'm not a son to my parents. I'm..." Kenny's voice cracked. "I'm just a mistake. I'm just a profitable mistake." Kenny is having some parental problems, so he breaks into Stan's room at midnight to escape.


For Stenny-Week, Spooky!Verse

There was someone in his room. Stan pressed his back against the wall, holding the metal bat tightly in his hands. As he'd wandered back from the bathroom, he'd heard his window open and a clatter as someone knocked over his toys from his desk.

Stan swallowed, daring a glance at his sister's room across the hall. He considered waking her up and having her flee the house, just in case. Shelley was too sweet. She couldn't hold her own in a fight if things went south. Knowing her as well as he did, however, Stan knew if he woke her, she would try to get involved regardless of her own safety.

His parents weren't home, either, and of course, he'd left his cell phone in his room. Stan had to fight this battle on his own.

He rolled his shoulders, going over his list of enemies in his mind. Given that he was the best friend of the most manipulative and heartless bastard in all of South Park Elementary, it was a long list.

Maybe it was Clyde, trying to get back at him and Kyle for making Craig cry with their teasing yesterday. Maybe Wendy's hopeless pining finally got the better of her and she was here to kidnap Stan to be all hers.

Or maybe Cartman finally snapped after all the years of teasing and torment Stan and Kyle put him through. Ever since he came home from that alternate universe and lost his beard, he had been acting quieter and more reserved.

Stan swallowed hard. Whoever it was, he was going to show them what happens to bastards that break into Stan Marsh's house.

Raising the bat, he swung open the door to his bedroom.

"Who's there? Show yourself, coward!" Stan snapped.

"I'm not even hiding, Stan." Kenny sat on Stan's bed, one leg pulled up onto the mattress. "Not yet, anyway."

Stan lowered the bat with a scowl. He stepped into his room and quietly shut his door.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" He asked.

Kenny raised his shoulders in a shrug before pulling his other leg onto the bed, sitting crisscrossed. Stan rolled his eyes, marching over to his desk. He tossed the bat aside before going to pick up his toys.

"You better not have broken any of these," Stan muttered, turning his Rubik Cube a few times before returning it to the desk.

"I'll buy you a new one if I did," Kenny replied.

Stan just snorted. Kenny was wealthy beyond belief. Someone like him could never understand taking care of toys and clothes. Kenny always had the newest toys and games. He wore the best brands and tossed clothes if a button came loose.

"You'd better," Stan grumbled. As he set the last toy aside, he turned back towards the boy on his bed.

"What do you want?" Stan demanded.

Kenny shrugged again. "I can't want to come and see my best friend in the middle of the night?"

Stan stern look told him the answer to his question.

Kenny held up his hands in defeat. "Ok, ok, I need a place to crash away from home for a little while. Just a day or two."

"Why?" Stan raised an eyebrow.

"Parent problems," Kenny told him flatly without looking at him.

Kenny's house itself was huge. More than a few times Kyle and Stan had gotten completely lost just trying to find the bathroom. Stan knew for a fact Kenny could easily avoid his parents in his house for a few days if he wanted. What was the point of crashing at Stan's?

Stan mentioned all that to Kenny with an air of skepticism around him.

Kenny readjusted his hood. "Look, just let me bum it here for a day or two. I'll pay you."

Stan eyed him before relenting. "Hundred bucks."

"A pricey man, aren't you, Marsh?" Kenny rolled his eyes but pulled out his wallet anyway. He opened it up and dug through the cards and bills until he found two fifties. Stan snatched them from his hand. He folded them up before dropping them through the slot of his piggy bank.

"Don't spend it all in one place," Kenny joked as Stan walked past him to the closet.

"You're one to talk. Aren't those new clothes? You were wearing something different this morning." Stan reached up on his toes to grab the extra blanket on the top shelf of his closet.

He tossed the blanket at Kenny. Kenny looked down at the blanket, his expression blank.

"I was." He admitted. "It was my favorite parka."

"'Was'?" Stan echoed. "What happened to it? You die again?"

Kenny held the blanket to his chest looking at his feet. That was all the confirmation Stan needed. Kenny was immortal. He always came back from the dead, though, no one ever remembered he died at all.

iWell, not 'no one', exactly./i Stan corrected himself.

Cartman and Kyle had each known about it for a few months before letting Stan in on the secret. Cartman learned it after an accident that left him with Kenny's eyes. When Kyle noticed how close Kenny and Cartman were becoming, Kyle tricked the information out of Cartman then staged an' accident' of his own. The end result was now of Stan's close friends, all of them had at least one of Kenny's blue eyes.

Stan hadn't believed it at first, so Kyle and Cartman thought of an idea to prove it. They filmed Kenny dying right in front of Stan at the bus stop and showed it to him.

Kenny had offered to give Stan one or both of his eyes as he'd done to Cartman and Kyle, but Stan refused. After seeing the carnage on the tape, he didn't think he could stomach remembering his friend's deaths all the time.

Stan walked around the bed and climbed under his covers. He purposefully scooted to the middle of the bed, leaving no room for Kenny.

He expected Kenny to complain about it, but he didn't. Kenny just quietly crawled to the floor and laid down.

A few hours passed before Stan was awoken to a soft, sobbing sound. He peeked open his eyes before scooting closer to the side of the bed.

"Kenny?" He asked, rubbing his eyes. "Are you crying?"

The bundled boy on the floor stiffened.

"N-no. No, I'm not." Kenny snorted, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Your floor is dusty. Get a maid."

"Screw you," Stan mumbled, rolling over.

They laid in silence. Only their breathing and the occasional sniffle permeated the room. Just as Stan began to doze back off, Kenny spoke up.

"Stan?"

"What?"

A pause, then Kenny said, "I'm jealous of you."

Now that made Stan roll back over. He propped himself up on his elbow, eyebrows raised. Kenny rolled over. His eyes and nose were red in the dim light from outside.

"What?" He asked again, but with less agitation. "Why?"

Kenny sighed. "Your parents love you. They might not be around all the time, but they still love you. You're a son to them."

"What does that mean?" Stan asked. "What are you saying?"

"I'm not a son to my parents. I'm..." Kenny's voice cracked. "I'm just a mistake. I'm just a profitable mistake."

"A profitable mistake?" Stan asked as he slipped off his bed to the floor.

Kenny nodded. "Kevin was planned. Karen was planned. I'm the accidental middle child that they can use for their own gain." He pushed himself up, keeping the blankets around his shoulders. "Do you know how my family made its money, Stan?"

"Inheritance, you told me," Stan replied.

"No." He shook his head. "It's me. I'm the only reason my family is as well off as it is. My parents have a huge insurance policy on my life. If I die, they cash in, and when no one remembers I died, they sue whatever killed me for injuries and get more."

"That's pretty dastardly," Stan muttered. "And ingenious."

Kenny shrugged. "It is. If it was just that, I wouldn't care at all. That's just screwing the insurance companies over. It's what else they do that I hate." He gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists. "They sell my body when I'm dead. People will pay a high price for organs like hearts and lungs. Mephesto Labs up on the hill pays my parents thousands of dollars for my corpses."

"Um, wow, that's...gross." Stan shook his head. "Super gross."

"I know!" Kenny blurted out, throwing his hands into the air. His blanket fell into a lump around his waist. "I know it is! I hate it! I hate them! They never respect me and what I want, and it pisses me the fuck off."

Stan flinched back. Kenny didn't swear often. This was serious. He scratched at his beard absently, unsure what to say.

Before he could think of anything, Kenny continued, "You know what else? That parka I had on this morning? I iloved/i that parka. I got my first kiss in that parka. I wear it when I have tests since I always pass when I have it on. It was important to me! Mom and Dad knew that, and they still let it get thrown away!"

He punched the floor. "I made them promise to save it if I died in it, but fuck me, I guess!"

A fresh round of tears welled up in his eyes. His lips began to quiver.

Stan swallowed hard before carefully reaching his hand out to his shoulder. Kenny raised his head towards him before a sob escaped. Faster than Stan could react, Kenny had his arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder.

"I'm nothing to them! I hate them! I hate them so much, but I can't escape! I always end up back home when I come back. Even trying to run away for a little like this is pointless! It's not fair! I hate it! I just want them to treat me like they treat Karen and Kevin."

"They treat you ithat/i differently?" Stan frowned. He stayed at Kenny's house for sleepovers plenty of times, and they didn't seem to treat him that different when he was alive.

"Yeah, they do. They never spend time with me. Kevin and Dad fix cars together. Karen and Mom take art classes." He wiped his nose on Stan's pajama top. "They never do anything with me alone. If I try to tag along with my brother or sister, my parents just ignore me and push me to the side. There's nothing I can do. No escape, no winning."

Stan rubbed his back as he ranted. Glancing at the door, Stan wondered if he shouldn't wake Shelley. She was motherly. Maybe she would know what to do. She wouldn't believe Kenny's secret, though. They could lie, but Shelley always saw through his lies.

Finally, Stan decided to keep Shelley out of this, at least for now, and just rub gentle circles into his back.

When Kenny's sobs quieted to a sniffle, he pushed himself back. Rubbing his nose on his sleeve, he offered a soft, "Thanks, Stan."

"No problem, dude." He replied. Using the bed as the support he stood. The clock beside his bed flashed four AM. He held out his hand.

"Want to head downstairs and watch some cartoons? I know you don't like adult cartoons, but maybe we can find some kids shows." Stan offered.

Kenny fixed him with an unreadable look before taking his hand and letting himself be pulled up to his feet.

"If you're not going commando under your parka, you can leave it there. Shelley and I do laundry on Saturday mornings. You can help us." Stan nodded to a laundry basket. Kenny eyed the basket a moment before nodding and unzipping his parka.

Even the simple clothes he had on under it were name brand and new. Stan pushed his jealousy aside as Kenny dumped the parka in the basket.

They then quietly crept down the hall, past Shelley's room, and down the stairs to the living room. Stan set Kenny on the couch before heading to the kitchen to fix two bowls of cereal.

When he returned Kenny had found some kids crafting show. He didn't really look like he was watching it.

"Here." Stan handed one of the bowls to him.

Kenny took it. His face scrunched up, but he didn't complain about the off-brand Fruity Pebbles. Instead, he started to shovel the cereal into his mouth. If he ran away right when he came back to life that night, he probably hadn't eaten in a while.

Stan shoved a spoonful into his mouth, watching his friend.

"Hey, Kenny," he swallowed, "can I ask you a question?"

Kenny nodded carefully then began sipping the milk from the bowl.

"Why did you come to me?" Stan asked. "If you wanted pity, you could have gone to Cartman. If you wanted an answer to your problem, you could have gone to Kyle. I don't have anything to offer you."

Kenny set his bowl in his lap and stared down at it for a long time. Finally, he took a breath.

"I don't know." He said on the exhale. "I didn't want pity. I know there isn't a black and white answer for this. You seemed like the best person to go to. I needed an ear, not a response."

Stan frowned. He didn't understand that but chose not to question it. Instead, he told him 'ok', then turned back towards the TV.

The boys sat and watched the craft show in silence until the episode ended and a preschool cartoon came on.

As the brightly colored animals danced across the screen, Stan set his bowl on the side table. He settled back into the couch when he felt Kenny stretch.

Kenny flopped back as he idly said. "I've never had a funeral."

"Excuse me?" Stan blinked.

"A funeral. Mom and Dad have never thrown me one when I die."

"No one says 'throw a funeral.'" Stan replied. "Besides, why do you want one? You'll just come back."

"I know, I know, but I think it would be nice." Kenny's eyes slipped shut. "I'd like to know my parents care enough to go pick out flowers and a headstone. I want them to mourn me." He peeked an eye open to look towards Stan. "Is that selfish?"

Stan shrugged. "I don't know, dude. It's five in the morning. Why are you asking me deep questions like this?"

Kenny snorted. "Yeah, ok, I understand." He settled back and shut his eyes again.

Tapping the arm of the couch a moment, Stan replied, "Have you talked to your parents about this? Told them you don't feel like they care?"

Kenny crossed his arms. "No, but why else would they act like this?"

Stan hummed lowly. "Maybe they're scared." He chewed his lip before going on. "I get scared sometimes about you. I think about what would happen if you don't come back someday. Sometimes when I think about that, I don't even want to be your friend."

"What?" Kenny bolted up. His empty bowl tumbled to the ground. "Why?"

"If I'm not your friend, it won't hurt as much when you die for real," Stan explained quietly. "Maybe it's the same for your parents. They keep their distance so it won't hurt so much."

Kenny mulled this over. He leaned forward then sighed. "Maybe. Do you think I should talk to them about this? What would you do if it was your parents?"

"Talk to Shelley." Stan quipped. "My parents aren't ever home, remember?"

Kenny snorted a laugh. "Point." His smile slipped down into a frown. "Ok then, maybe, tomorrow, I'll go talk to them. But if this backfires on me, I'm coming for you, Stan Marsh." he reached over and gently punched his shoulder.

Stan snickered. "Deal."

hr

The next Monday, Stan stood next to Kyle as he argued with Cartman. Kenny had stayed at his house most of Saturday and part of Sunday. When Shelley woke up, Stan and Kenny vaguely told her that Kenny had a bit of a fight with his parents, and luckily, she didn't pry. Instead, she told Kenny he had to text his parents so they knew where he was, then went to make pancakes. He did but turned off his phone before they could text back.

"And that's why iBlack Panther/I is a cinematic masterpiece," Cartman was saying.

Kyle snorted. "That's stupid. It wasn't that good."

Cartman opened his mouth to defend his views when Kenny came running up.

"'Morning, guys!" He chirped, bouncing on his toes.

Kyle raised an eyebrow at him. "Why are you so happy?"

"Oh my goodness!" Cartman pushed Kyle over to Kenny. He grabbed his parka sleeve. "Is that blood? Are you ok? Should I get out my first aid kit?"

Stan squinted his eyes. Against the red-orange of the parka, barely noticeable, was a small, brown, splatter-shaped stain on his sleeve with another near his collar. He almost wondered how Cartman was able to see it, but then remembered Cartman seemed to notice whenever ianyone/i might be hurt, no matter how small.

Kenny bobbed his head with sparkling eyes. "Heck yeah, it is! My blood. It's my favorite parka. I wore it Friday, remember?"

Kyle peeked around Stan and Cartman. "Friday, as in, when you tried to climb out the second story window to get out of that spelling test and broke your neck?"

"Yeah!" Kenny beamed, "That parka. It was pretty gross and dirty, but I got to help Mom clean it up so I can wear it again."

"So you're ok?" Cartman eyed his friend worriedly.

"I'm doing great." He laughed as the bus pulled up.

Kyle rolled his eyes before grabbing Cartman by the collar and dragging him onto the bus to continue their debate over the blockbuster. Kenny stayed behind Stan as they climbed onto the bus.

Stan went to sit in the seat beside Kyle, but Kenny grabbed his arm and pulled him next to him.

The bus lurched forward when Kenny dropped his hands on Stan's shoulders.

"Dude, I owe you big time."

"You talked to your parents?"

He nodded. "Yeah! You were right. They didn't want to get hurt every time I died. Mom said she didn't even know she was doing it. They promised they'd stop, too. Dad even told me we can do a project together, just us two, no Kevin." He squeezed Stan's shoulders then pulled him into a quick hug.

Stan hugged him back. "Good to hear, but do me a favor."

"Anything!" Kenny promised as he pulled his arms back to his sides.

"Next time you need someone to listen to you ramble, don't break into their house at midnight."

 **AN:**

UAs-Fics on Tumblr and UAs_Fics on Archice of Our Own are were I'm much more active.


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